


Like Lolita

by deanxi



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Past Child Abuse, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:18:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3889135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanxi/pseuds/deanxi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Beth Greene decides to seduce dirty redneck, Daryl Dixon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ONE

[](http://s296.photobucket.com/user/eekimkee/media/1_zpscxveiyiq.jpg.html)

Beth stirred in bed. The heat of a steamy, Georgia morning lay thick in her room, hanging sodden and heavy about her. She had kicked off her white bedspread and sheets hours earlier, her nightdress now bunched up around her waist. No breeze was blowing through her open window. The moon hung low and its milky light lay supine on her floor, a dim, inadequate lantern. She awoke, vaguely aware of movement downstairs and stretched, wincing at the twinge of pain between her legs. She reached down and brushed her fingers over her white panties, squeezing her eyes shut and letting out a slow, quiet breath—her mind wandering back to the night before.

Like every girl, Beth had dreamt about making-love. She had always been a hopeless romantic and from the small sneaks she'd gotten from her mother's novels, she had gotten a dramatized look at what sex was like. She would blush at the thought of her lover seeing her in nothing but her skin, would daydream about how electrifying his touch would be and how his kisses would cause her to tremble. About that moment she would fall apart in his strong arms with her head thrown back and her spine arching in soul-aching pleasure—

But now, she realized that it was all just fantasy.

Because Beth Greene had lost her virginity, and all she'd gotten in return was awkward fumbling, sloppy kisses and uncomfortable pain in her nether-regions.

At first, she had just copped it down to being the first time. Jimmy, like her, had no idea what he was doing and she knew he was trying his best, taking his time to kiss and touch her. They had done it in the hayloft of her barn, just like she had envisioned, on a soft blanket made of cotton—but when it was all over and done, Beth was left feeling put-off and a little awkward. She didn't feel like she had undergone some great transformation from girl-to-woman, like Maggie said she would.

Even now, after doing it a total of six times, it still hurt and it was still uncomfortable and she still didn't enjoy any of it. Where were the sparks? Where was the passion? Where was the climax?

Would it always be like that?

Beth shuddered at the thought.

Letting out another sigh, she pushed out of bed. The house was eerily silent then, and Beth tried to ignore the way the hairs on her arms stood on end as she shed her clothes in the bathroom and turned on the shower. As she waited for it to warm, she stared at her body in the mirror, scrutinizing herself and wondering what was wrong with her. Jimmy was a complete gentleman, always polite and charming with his laid-back, calm, and genuinely kind demeanor. In the sixteen-years that they'd known each other, Beth could honestly say that he was truly the most loving and caring boy she'd ever met. He was the type of person who rarely lost his cool and almost never showed animosity towards anyone. He wasn't perfect by any means, and the two of them had their fights and disagreements with one another, yet he was always be the first to apologize, even if it wasn't his fault.

Beth stepped into the shower and as the water from the showerhead rained over her skin, she hugged herself. She loved Jimmy, she really did, but she wasn't _in_ love with him. He wasn't someone who gave her butterflies or caused her to feel giddy inside at the very thought of him, he wasn't someone she dreamed about or made her to blush. He couldn't even get her _wet_ for God's sake. All she could do was lay there awkwardly while he pumped away inside of her, wincing and praying for it to be over soon.

Beth turned off the shower and retrieved a towel from the hall-closet. She wrapped it around herself and wandered back into her bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed as she combed her fingers through her hair.

With a sigh, she glanced at the clock and realized that Jimmy had invited her to have breakfast at Mickey's Diner in forty-minutes.

Silently, she prayed she'd be able to make it through without breaking down.


	2. TWO

[](http://s296.photobucket.com/user/eekimkee/media/1_zpscxveiyiq.jpg.html)

"Now that's a nice fuckin' pair of melons right there with an apple-bottomed ass to match," Merle whistled under his breath, tipping back his drink and swishing it in his mouth.

Daryl's gaze slipped out to the female tittering away with her girlfriends at the bar. Propped up on six-inch spikes that jacked her ass up obscenely under a mini-dress that barely covered it, her legs went on forever. Daryl had always been a legs man.

"You gonna hit that, brother, or am I?" Merle hissed, leering at him out of the corner of his eye.

Grunting, Daryl tipped back the rest of the beer in his hand, gasping as he set the thick jug down without comment. The woman wasn't bad looking—she was wearing too much make-up and her hair had been bleached yellow—but she was better then the usual girls Merle pointed out to him.

"C'mon, Darylina," Merle taunted with pursed lips, shifting his lounge against the wall. "Don't be shy, y'little pussy."

Daryl cut his eyes over at his brother with a deep frown. He wasn't shy, he was patient—there was a difference. He'd spent his entire life living off scraps that fell from the table so he had to be. He'd never been good enough to get a seat.

The girl turned over her shoulder with a coy tuck of her chin and looked straight at him.

"There it _is_ , man," Merle egged him on in a hiss.

Daryl simply grunted again and picked up his empty jug of beer. He could feel a slight buzz tingling at the back of his skull and felt his hands trembling for another drink as his mind began to wander—as it always did when he wasn't drunk enough. The longer he stayed sober, the more distinct the voices in his head became. His mind was a chaotic jumble of pictures and sounds—memories he didn't want and literally had to _fight_ to push away—and the only thing that could push them away was getting as smashed as possible.

His hand flexed against his empty jug, "Imma' get another beer," he grumbled as he shoved off the wall, only to have his brother grab his arm, tight.

"You lil' Nancy," Merle hissed. His narrowed eyes flickered back-and-forth between his own, voice low. "Sometimes I wonder 'bout you, boy."

Merle always did.

When Daryl was younger and less haggard-looking, he had gotten a lot of attention from the opposite sex. But after a few cold looks and cutting words, he was quickly recognized as a man that was not to be approached. After a time, Merle and his buddies had begun to get suspicious and rather than fielding obnoxious questions about his sexuality, he had indulged in some periodic, uninspiring one night stands. Always at their home, never at his trailer, and he never stayed the night or phoned them.

Still, Merle often looked at him like he was now—like he was a disappointment. Like he was a _pussy_.

Daryl felt his anger spike. "Fuck you, Merle," he spat, face quickly growing red and fists clenching. "I just ain't in the mood."

Before Merle could answer back with a snarky reply, Daryl yanked his arm away and stalked toward the bar.

While the bartender refiled his jug, he pulled out a pack of smokes from his pocket, quickly lighting it and sucking down the addictive nicotine. He let a string of smoke descend from between his lips after a moment and rolled his cigarette between calloused fingers.

It wasn't that Daryl ignored women or didn't like being around them, he simply didn't bother himself with them. He didn't really bother himself much with anybody, to be fair. He had always been quiet and reserved for as long as he could remember, not saying much at all while his thoughts ran rampant and scattered through his unbridled mind. Pursuing women bored him and he just didn't enjoy it—he wasn't a girl-chaser, and he never had been one to begin with.

He wasn't awkward around women, by any means, it just seemed that he always had trouble trying to strike up a conversation with them, mostly because he was never truly interested. After a while, he would get frustrated and his temper would make an appearance—and then they'd leave in a huff, and he would stand there wondering why he didn't feel more bothered.

When his jug was filled to the brim, Daryl quickly threw it back and swallowed it down until it was half-way gone.

This was his life these days. When he wasn't following Merle around, he was in the forest hunting or drinking himself into oblivion. It was easier that way.

After drinking through five jugs of beer and inhaling a half-carton of smokes, Daryl pushed off the bar stool. He lit yet another cigarette, his footing a little unsteady as he stumbled toward the door and shoved it open. He was quickly hit with the cool night air. The sky above was the color of mud, cloaking the parking lot in a strange, chocolate-colored pall. Behind him, broken streams of moonlight were filtering in between the swirling wreaths of fog and dust that hung suspended in the air. His gaze crossed over to the trees surrounding the seedy, backwoods bar.

He was just about to take a walk over to take a piss when Merle called him.

Daryl glanced across the parking lot and found his brother already waiting, leaning back against his truck and lazily buttoning his jeans while watching a girl sashay tipsily back to the bar. Daryl's eyes lowered when she passed by.

"See y'around, Merle," she called out shrilly, hurting Daryl's ears. Grimacing, he tossed his smoke onto the ground next to a pile of cigarette buds. Unlike Merle, who had several go-to girls back at the trailer park, Daryl didn't have the heart to hit them up more than once. He could always see the yearning for more in their eyes and it made it harder and harder to turn away.

Continuing his unhurried amble across the lot, he met Merle's smirk with a sneer. "That was fast."

"She's done me before," Merle chuckled, "Short n' sweet . . . and cheap."

"Hooker?"

"Fifty-bucks 'n a drink," His shoulder hopped and he grinned. "'Didn't feel like spendin' time on the bullshit wind-up. And I got forty-minutes of head," Merle sniffed a laugh as he turned and opened the driver's side door.

Daryl grunted irritably at the fogged up windows.

Like all men, sex smelled good to him, but he wasn't really in the mood to steep in his brother's purchase-high for the long ride home, so being the considerate asshole he was, Merle rolled down the windows for the drive back to their trailer in the woods. Daryl watched the miles go by while he silently listened to hardcore porn and posturing from the driver's seat until his ears bled.

Daryl sniffed. He wished he could bleach some of those images from his memory. Merle had lost his virginity at age twelve and had been heartily fucking out his rage with increasing kink ever since. Daryl, on the other hand, had popped his cherry the day before his twentieth birthday. Finally, simply unwilling to watch any longer, Merle had taken him up to a strip club and paid a girl to show him how it was done.

And the rest was sorry, sordid history.

As they turned onto familiar dirt roads, Merle cocked his head, rearranging himself in his seat, "I'm headin' up to Little Rock tomorrow. 'Gonna get me some quality drugs 'stead of the shit I'm been sniffin' lately. Probably gonna be gone a few weeks."

Daryl silently nodded and turned to the window beside him, rubbing a hand over his glazed eyes. As sick as it was, Merle was the only one who really understood. Talks like this in the car were the closest he ever got to a heart-to-heart.

"'Think you can hold up the fort without me?"

"'Course, learned everthin' from you, didn't I?" Daryl muttered.

"That's right, boy and you best always remember it! All them years I spent tryin' to make a man outta you," Merle chuckled to himself and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with one hand before he propped an arm out the open window, "Ain't nobody gonna care about you like I do, little brother. Ain't nobody ever will."

Daryl slumped against his seat and closed his eyes.

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I'm going to be ultra-cautious here, because I want to make sure that no one is surprised by this story's content. This is a story about the development of a teenage girl's sexuality with an older man in his mid-thirties—so it might offend some people who, for one reason or another, don't like to see such things openly discussed._
> 
>  
> 
> _So basically, if you are not into the whole Lolita/nympet thing, I suggest turning back now._


End file.
